


So we forgot what it was like to be alone

by Pseudothyrum



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudothyrum/pseuds/Pseudothyrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From first meeting to first hit. One of the ways that Mr Numbers and Mr Wrench may have met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So we forgot what it was like to be alone

They meet for the first time on a street corner in a mid-sized American city. The boy who is not yet Mr Numbers (and who wishes he was anyone other than who he is right now) sees the boy who is not yet Mr Wrench sitting on a concrete barrier, draped in a fringed jacket that is too big for him, radiating the kind of anger that is years in the making. 

“Hello,” he says, though he doesn’t quite know why. The boy doesn’t acknowledge him, eyes fixed on the ground. “Hey,” he says, more loudly, waving his hands in front of the boy’s eyes. The boy looks up at him then, brow furrowed. His hands move in a complicated series of gestures. 

_Oh_ , not-yet-Mr Numbers thinks, _interesting_. 

He pulls a piece of paper out of his backpack. 

_Hello_ he writes, and holds it out to the boy, who eyes it warily for a long moment before taking the paper.

_What do you want?_ the boy writes back, and then stares, eyes challenging. He shrugs, because he doesn’t quite know. The boy gives him a long, searching look, then stands and walks away, tossing a final few signs at him that he just knows are insulting. He watches the boy go until he is out of sight. 

***

They meet for a second time when not-yet-Mr Numbers is being beaten up in a park. The third guy is landing a solid kick to his ribs and he’s thinking that maybe he shouldn’t have said quite so many things about the guy’s mother. Suddenly the blows stop landing, and he looks up to see the kid in the fringed jacket breaking the leader’s nose. The gang runs off, leaving the two boys breathing heavily in the crisp autumn air. He taps the boy on the leg, drawing his attention away from the retreating backs of his erstwhile opponents

_Hello_ , he signs. _Thank you_. The boy in the fringed jacket looks surprised. 

_You sign?_ the boy asks. 

_I learn,_ he signs back, clumsily. The boy in the fringed jacket smiles at him, bright and genuine, and helps him to his feet. 

_I’ll help._

***

They are both seventeen, and they are all too aware that they are not invincible, but it’s pretty easy to feel like they are. They spend their days roaming the city, the lords of petty thieves and conmen. They stay out late and creep back to their homes in the early hours, waiting for the first rays of sun to sneak up over the horizon because then everyone at home will be asleep. (They never talk about what happens when someone wakes up).

They finally leave with thirty dollars, a split lip, three black eyes and a broken nose between them. They board the first bus out of town. Neither of them knows where they are going. 

_But,_ Mr Wrench signs, _it’s better than here._

***

They get by on their own surprisingly well, because Mr Numbers is a good talker and Mr Wrench always has his back when he talks himself into more trouble than he can talk himself back out of. 

They steal the car a week after they arrive. It’s a spur of the moment decision, Mr Wrench notices the car idling in front of a nondescript apartment block and they’re in it and driving away before they can think. They don’t notice the bag full of cash in the back seat until the back window shatters and the bullet lodges itself into the dashboard. The car slews sideways across the road, Mr Numbers too shocked by the new development to keep it from running into a lamppost by the road. Over the sound of the cooling engine and their breathing, Mr Numbers can hear someone approaching, steps careful and heavy on the wet concrete. He tries to reverse the car, but it makes a horrible grinding, revving noise that he can see even Mr Wrench feels. The footsteps stop behind them, and he turns to see a man holding a gun silhouetted by the streetlights. He levels the gun at Mr Wrench, who glares at him defiantly. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the car responds, and before he can stop it, it has reversed over the man. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, then scramble out of the car at the same time. The man is lying on the concrete under the body of the car, groaning and moving his hands feebly. Mr Wrench pulls the gun out from under the car and shoots the man once in the head, flinching only a little at the recoil. They both stand up and look at each other over the roof of the car. Mr Numbers raises his eyebrows.

_What?_ signs Mr Wrench. 

_That was excessive,_ Mr Numbers signs back. Mr Wrench shrugs, but his eyes are a little glassy and his jaw is clenched. 

_Him or us. We should hide the body,_ Nr Numbers nods, because both of those things are probably true, and bends down to drag the body out from under the car, not quite managing to avoid seeing the hole in the man’s head. Together, they drag the body into the trunk and drive it down to the pier, neither of them looking at the other. The moment the body hits the water a phone in the car starts to ring.

“Hello?” Mr Numbers says cautiously after fishing it out of the bag of money.

“This doesn’t sound like Simon,” says the voice on the other end. 

“That’s because it isn’t,” Mr Numbers says, suppressing a nervous giggle, “he’s indisposed.” 

“Right,” says the voice, “well, I don’t have all night. I need a job done. I’ll send you the details. Usual fee, 15 thou, you think you can make it work?” 

“And by job, you mean...” 

“I need you to shoot a man in the head. Can you do it or not?” Mr Numbers glances at Mr Wrench, who is looking at him expectantly. 

“Yeah, I think we can.”


End file.
